


A Mother's Love

by lears_daughter



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Accidental Incest, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, F/M, oedipus complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lears_daughter/pseuds/lears_daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three ways Jason's life could have gone very differently because of Pasiphae.  Spoilers for the Season 1 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Thorn in Her Side

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Atlantis.

The boy’s blood runs warm and crimson over her hands.  She expected him to drift off without ever regaining consciousness, but this brave, foolish boy has ever defied expectations—his eyes fly open at the last.  His mouth works but no sound emerges.  His eyes—eyes that are not so different from her own—carry too many emotions to name.  And then the light fades from those eyes and his body sags, a final breath marking the transition from man to corpse.    
  
It is truly a pity, the necessity for his death.  Pasiphae has always valued strength, and that was something Jason had in spades.  He could have been an invaluable tool for her if only his heart had bound him to her rather than Ariadne.  She could have found great use for a young hero like Jason.  
  
Still.  It is done.  Jason is dead, Ariadne captured.  Minos will be dead soon and then Atlantis will be fully hers.  Pasiphae wipes her bloody hands on the dead man’s tunic and rises gracefully to her feet, only to freeze at the unexpected sight of a man in rags gaping at her in horror.  
  
“What have you done?” he whispers.  
  
It is only then that she recognizes him, and with recognition comes a rush of satisfaction.  “Aeson,” she breathes.  How pitiful he looks, how wretched.  Her once strong, proud husband, reduced to one of the living dead.  The look suits him.  
  
He stumbles past her and falls to his knees beside the dead boy.  “You killed him.  How could you have killed him?”  
  
She frowns.  “What do you care about the death of a boy you just met?  Who is he to you?”  
  
Aeson does not answer for long seconds.  And then: “He is our _son_.”  
  
Her heart stutters to a halt.  Pasiphae cannot think, cannot breathe.  “No.  I did not— He _could not be_ —“  Yet she knows it to be true.    
  
“He was touched by the gods,” Aeson weeps, his hideous face contorting into something truly grotesque.  “He should have been beyond even your reach.”  
  
Deep inside Pasiphae there is a small seed.  The seed may be called humanity, or love.  It is small and fragile and has been hidden from even herself for so long that she forgot its existence.  Under the correct conditions, that seed might one day have flowered into something, if not beautiful, at least sturdy and well-rooted.  
  
In an instant, the seed is crushed beyond recognition.  
  
“You,” she hisses.  From her sleeve she draws her dagger, still wet with Jason’s blood.  
  
Aeson watches her come.  His final expression is something like relief.  
  



	2. Oedipus

Jason’s grasp on mythology is unfortunately weak.  He never studied Classics at university, and his recollection of myths from his childhood is as fragile and fleeting as his memories of his father.  
  
So he does not recognize the discrepancies between the myths of his childhood world and the narratives playing out around him.  He does not know that the Minotaur was meant to be Pasiphae’s own child, or that Theseus is meant to be the one to slay the Minotaur.    
  
He meets the babe Oedipus and believes he knows the boy’s future.  It saddens him but he knows no way of preventing it.  The myths have already been written, surely, and are beyond changing.  
  
He has no way of knowing that the story of this Oedipus will not match the story he knows.  That this Oedipus will one day be captain of a mighty ship, the Argos, and will sail on many adventures with his heroic crew to win back his city.  
  
Oedipus will lead the Argonauts, because Jason, _this_ Jason, will not.  
  
But Jason does not know that.  He knows only that Hercules and Pythagoras are his friends, Medusa is doomed, and Queen Pasiphae is lovely.  
  
The Queen—he breathes a heavy sigh and peers out the window at the agora as he thinks of her.  She is not a kind woman, he knows that, but she has been kind to him.  It was she who spoke to him, with admiring, breathless words, after he slew the Minotaur.  It was she who pleaded for leniency when Jason and his friends were brought before the King after Jason’s dispute with Heptarian.  Jason has felt her eyes seeking him out through a crowd, has seen the way those eyes soften only when they land on him.  
  
Pasiphae, he thinks incredulously, likes him.  
  
The second time he speaks to her in private is months after he faced the Minotaur.  He has been feeling a restlessness of spirit of late and is on his way to speak to the Oracle, whose solemn proclamations about his destiny at least give him something to look forward to.  So intent is he on his destination that he bumps into a woman walking the opposite direction.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out to steady her.  The cloth of her gown is blissfully soft under his fingers, telling him he has stumbled into someone high in station.  Then her head tilts back under her veil and piercing eyes meet his.  “Your Majesty!” he gasps, quickly stepping back and ducking his head.  “Please, accept my apologies.”  
  
Her voice is melodious, with a hint of humor, as she replies, “And where is a young man such as yourself off to in such a hurry?  Jason, isn’t it?”  
  
His cheeks burn.  “I was going to see the Oracle, Your Majesty.”  
  
She raises her eyebrows.  “For what reason?”  
  
He’s been in Atlantis long enough to know that that is a rather personal question.  “I seek answers,” he says, struggling for words.  “Regarding my place here, in Atlantis.”  
  
Her lips curve.  _Beautiful_ , he thinks, and cannot quite catch hold of the thought in time to prevent it from reaching his face.  He knows, because her smile deepens almost as if he said it aloud.    
  
“A young hero in search of a purpose,” she muses.  She does not touch him, because they are in public, but there is something very intimate about her body language.  “Would you like me to give you one?”  Her voice is deep, sultry.  
  
This is a very bad idea, Jason thinks.  Yet he cannot find it within himself to refuse.  She is his Queen and he is drawn to her.    
  
Because she is a scheming queen with copious resources, she has a rather luxurious boudoir in the city about which she assures Jason her husband knows nothing.    
  
She is kissing him before the door is fully shut.  Seconds later he is undressed and at her mercy.  
  
Over the next months, Jason becomes very familiar with that boudoir.  As he does, he feels his attraction to Pasiphae grow into something more.  He is certain that he loves her.  As for what she feels for him—he knows it is not love, but it is fierce and possessive and that’s almost the same thing.  
  
“I had a son named Jason,” she tells him once, lying with her head on his strong chest as his breathing slowly returns to normal.  “It pleases me to think he might have grown into a man like you.”  
  
“I knew the moment I saw you that you were touched by the gods,” she says another night, reclining gloriously nude on the bed as she watches him dress.  
  
“What does that mean?” he asks, pausing in the act of lacing his sandals.  
  
“It means you will achieve greatness.  Under my patronage, you will become the hero of Atlantis.  And as your power grows, so will mine.”  
  
Her prediction comes true.  The King dies after a long illness, preceded mere days in death by his daughter Ariadne, whose fatal act of treason is never fully explained to the populace.  In an unprecedented move, Pasiphae steps into the vacuum and seizes the throne for herself.  
  
Other kingdoms take offense and come, one by one, to lay siege to Atlantis.  Always at the forefront of every battle is Jason, clad in splendid armor and bearing a sword that was once used by King Minos.  More than once, his name becomes the chant that rallies Atlantis’s army to victory when all hope seems lost.  
  
Eventually, and after the spilling of much blood, Atlantis stands victorious, her Queen at her helm.  And beside the Queen is her consort, the young and handsome hero Jason.  The Queen is widely feared; Jason, beloved.  It is a powerful combination.  
  
“You saw me when I was nothing,” Jason murmurs against her breast one night, their tenth night together in the royal bedchambers.  
  
Her hand caresses his hair, soothing.  “You were never nothing.  That others were blind to your value merely bespeaks their foolishness.”  
  
They lie in silence for a while.  
  
“Is there anything you would not do, if I asked it?” she says.  
  
“Nothing,” he says swiftly.  “Tell me your desire, Pasiphae, and I will see it done.”  
  
“There is one man who may righteously dispute my claim to the throne.  His name is Aeson, and he resides in the leper colony in the Mountains of Galena.  I would see him dead.”  
  
Jason knows nothing of the man, whether he is good or evil, but there is no hesitation when he says, “I leave immediately.”  He moves to stand, his mind already planning ahead to the horse he will ride, the men he trusts to accompany him.    
  
Her hand catches his.  The smile she gives him is one he has and will kill for.  “Delightful boy,” she murmurs.  “Aeson can wait until tomorrow.  Come here.”  
  
She draws him down to her and he comes, unresisting.


	3. Happily Ever After

“You will not take him.”  
  
Aeson pauses in the act of reaching for the child and looks up with a sigh.  “Pasiphae.”  
  
She wears a breastplate and carries a sword.  For a moment he allows himself to see her as the magnificent woman she is.  Magnificent, vicious, and back-stabbing.  
  
“Step away from the cradle, Aeson, or I will do worse than render you a leper,” she says.    
  
“He cannot remain here,” Aeson says, lowering his hand.  “Surely you can see that.  Minos will never permit him to live.”  
  
“Minos will do what I tell him,” Pasiphae sneers.  “He loves me, much the way you once did.”  
  
Aeson knows Pasiphae well, knows the exact words that will cut her.  “I know what it is to love you.  In the long term, my dear, power is far more alluring.”  
  
She doesn’t flinch, but her face hardens into a sort of shield, ready to deflect any other attacks.  “You will not touch my son.”  
  
“Do you truly believe that you can stop me?” he says.  He, too, carries a sword, after all.  
  
She smiles, a triumphant smile, and the flood of guards entering the room answers his question.

* * *

 

Minos does not kill Jason; nor does he love him.  He calls the boy “Prince” but dismisses him like a servant.  
  
Pasiphae makes up for Jason’s lack of a father by giving him more love than any mother before or after her.  There is nothing about him she does not value, does not cherish.  He has her eyes, which seems to her to indicate that he carries a piece of her own soul in his precious body.  His face, even from a young age, is handsome, his figure lithe.    
  
Before Aeson tried to steal her son, Pasiphae’s only ambition was for herself.  To one day see herself on a throne with no man beside her, weighing her down.  Since then, that ambition has shifted to focus on one conviction: Jason must have the world.  Therefore, one day he must be king.  
  
By the age of ten he is defeating his older cousin Heptarian in sword training.  His mind is agile and never leaves his tutors dissatisfied.  If he is not touched by the gods as his mother is, well, perhaps that is for the best.  The gods’ affection can be, in its way, as treacherous as their hatred.  
  
By the age of thirteen, Jason no longer looks upon his younger stepsister Ariadne with the disdain of a boy who fears girls.  Because he is a wonderful boy—if perhaps a bit too sensitive—he grants the girl his protection, his affection.  When she wishes to visit the Oracle, he accompanies her.  When she cries over those lost to bull leaping, he gives her his shoulder to lean upon and vows to see the trials ended one day.  
  
Pasiphae supposes she could have a much worse daughter-in-law than Ariadne, though the girl, like all other girls, does not deserve her son.  A marriage would make things so much easier, too.  Pasiphae has no qualms with arranging a coup— _another_ coup—but they are time-consuming, dangerous, messy things.  A wedding is somewhat less so.  
  
The only obstacle to Jason's eventual kingship is Ariadne’s older brother Therus.  Regrettably, Jason is rather fond of Therus.  His genuine grief when the older boy has a terrible accident in the woods serves to endear him to the grieving King, enough so that it takes barely a whisper in his ear to persuade him of the merits of a union between his daughter and Pasiphae’s son.  After all, the throne of Atlantis needs an heir.  This way, it can have two.  
  
The day of his wedding, Jason comes to Pasiphae in all his finery and kneels before her, laying his head on her knee.  
  
“Do you love me?” she asks, as she always does when he comes to her like this.  
  
“I do, Mother.”  
  
As always, the answer warms her heart.  
  
“And are you pleased with your future?”  
  
“I am.  I am most pleased.”  
  
“Then so am I.”  
  
She places her head on his hair, a benediction of sorts, and considers herself well satisfied with her life.  She has not accomplished much of what she set out to do, and yet—in some ways, she has accomplished so much more.  Jason may not be a great hero, but he is a great man and will be a great king.  He will bring changes and progress.  
  
Most of all, he will be loved.  And that, Pasiphae has come to learn, is the greatest blessing of all.


End file.
